Quidditch
by aconsultingwizard
Summary: Collection Written for the Little Leagues competition
1. Chapter 1

A/N Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Written for the Little Leagues Quidditch Competition (Hufflepuff) (Chaser 1)

Prompt: Gryffindor x Gryffindor friendship, 'piece of cake', 'force', 'partner'

* * *

Seamus strode into the dungeons and swung his bag round onto the seat. He felt confident that he could really rile Professor Snape up today. It would be amusing to try and wind up the insufferable slime ball.

He grinned at Dean as his best friend took the seat next to him. It was always much more fun when they were partners for Snape's dire tasks, and if he was honest Seamus had a lot more faith in his friend potion making abilities than his own.

"Hey. Did you see the way I almost singed McGonagall's eyebrows at breakfast?" He asked with a smirk. Dean looked at him concerned, he was pretty sure that would merit at least a detention, although he hadn't seen the event and Seamus was probably exaggerating. However, before he could say anything Snape's cold voice cut through the room.

"Mr Finnegan. Ten points from Gryffindor for disturbing my lesson."

Seamus scowled at the greasy bat. Half the Slytherins hadn't even arrived yet. Everyone knew that Snape was such a bloody hypocrite. Dean gave him a cautionary glance. It really wouldn't do to upset the professor further.

When everyone had finally arrived Snape announced that they would be making a confusing concoction.

"Great! I've made this with me nan before". He grinned at Dean who looked worried in anticipation of the disaster that would undoubtedly follow. Nevertheless, making a decision that they might as well try to start off well, he made his way over to the potions cupboard.

* * *

"Ten minutes left." Snape announced from the front. "I expect anyone who hasn't put a perfect sample of the potion on my desk by the end of the lesson to serve a detention with me tonight."

Dean groaned and Seamus looked at him sharply. "Quit moaning partner. We've totally got this."

His words might have reassured Dean, had he not currently been trying to force a bloopa bean from it's hard outer shell. Suddenly the shell gave, sending Seamus stumbling backwards and the whole bloopa bean flying into their cauldron.

"Er mate? Was that meant to go in whole like that?"

Seamus looked momentarily concerned but smiled anyway. "Nah. But I'm sure it'll be fine."

That was what was simultaneously the reason Dean and Seamus were best friends and the most infuriating thing about Seamus. His friend was totally carefree. He didn't care what other people thought and he had a relentless optimism that mad Dean think that he would literally never give up hope. He had dragged Dean out of the shell that he had concocted around himself in first year. Coming to Hogwarts as a muggleborn he had had no idea of what to do or where to go. Seamus had attached himself to Dean and they had become best friends. They balanced each other perfectly; Dean's calmness cancelling out Seamus' craziness, and so Dean put up with the never ending catastrophes and explosions that followed Seamus wherever he went. Besides, most of Seamus' disasters were amusing to watch.

What would be less amusing however, would be if he were also on the receiving end of Snape's fury. Dean snapped to attention, rushing around in an attempt to make up for the earlier mistakes. They had worked together before so many times that it was easy for them to work around each other. As he chopped the fire pods Dean heard the sound of splintering glass behind him and knew what had happened without having to turn around.

"Stop using excessive force to try and achieve things Seamus."

Dean threw the last few ingredients into the cauldron hastily as Snape called out that time was up. He gave it a quick stir and then, careful not to breath in any of the vapours, he collected a sample of it in a neatly labelled vial. As he walked to the front of the class he noticed in dismay that their potion was a pale purple, where everyone else's were most definitely turquoise. He sighed and walked back to their desk dejectedly. Seamus pulled a face at his disappointment.

"What's the matter? We worked great together! I told you it would be a piece of cake."

At Seamus' words, as if by some malignant devil saw the irony in those words the potion began to bubble over. Small fizzes and sparks could be heard and seen as the gloop inside the cauldron spilled out and with a splat covered Neville and Ron, who were sitting in front of them, in a thick slimy purple goo.

"Finnegan! Thomas! Detention at 6 o'clock. Now get out of my sight!" Snape continued shouting as they fled from the room. As soon as they were out of earshot Seamus broke out into laughter.

"Did- did you see his face!" He guffawed.

Dean tried to frown. "It won't be funny when we're in detention."

"Yeah but-" Seamus doubled over, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks. Dean couldn't help the chortle that escaped him, Seamus' laughter was infectious. The more he thought about it, the funnier Snape had seemed, his hook nose and narrowed eyes staring coldly at them, almost trembling with rage. He laughed and laughed, leaning against the wall for support. When he could finally string together a sentence he turned to Seamus.

"Well done partner. I think we nailed it."


	2. Chapter 2

Written for Quidditch, Little Leagues, Hufflepuff (Chaser 1)

Prompt: Loneliness (Do not use the word Lonely)  
Icicle  
Tranquil  
Overwhelmed

* * *

Hermione sat quietly at the foot of the grand staircase. All around her was silent. It felt wrong somehow. This peacefulness was too tranquil. The whole memorial service was too clean, too quiet and respectable. This celebration of Voldemort's defeat neatly glossed over the agony of the war. It was a neat bandage that the Ministry had placed over the gaping wound to try and keep the world satisfied. The pain that still cut through her every time she looked at photographs of better times could not be neatly summed up in a couple of obituaries and a bouquet.

Nothing could honour the dead, and this farce, this opportunity for the minister to proclaim his excellence did quite the opposite. It was the perfect epitome of the whole society, everything had a motive, and nothing was done for the sake of honouring those who deserved it. Apparently she was the only one who thought so though. Everyone else seemed to think it was a lovely idea.

That was how it had been since the end of the war- her opinion against everyone else's. They had all withdrawn from her to their own private comforts after the war leaving her adrift to fend for herself. Harry and Ginny had left the country, Ron had found solace in Lavender Brown and all of her other friends had sinilarly abandoned her.

She had been overehelmed by the war. It had taken all of her sttength and for months she had had a goal, something to work towards. She had invested so much time and effort into the fight that when it all ended she had been at a loss. They had won, certainly, but at what cost? The death toll had shocked and overwhelmed her and for months all that she could see were the flashes of green light that danced across her vision and all that she could hear were the tortured screams of her friends.

She had been followed everywhere by the media but even surrounded by a huge crowd she was isolated. No one knew who she was, no one understood her. They all thought that she was a hero, none of them could see that really, she was a coward.

She had survived. She had let her friends die for her. Colin Creevey, Remus, Tonks, Fred; the list went on and on. She was worthless and yet they all still hounded her,desperate to pin labels like 'heroine' and 'saviour' on her.

So slowly she had changed. Evolved into a new person,like a caterpillar that becomes a butterfly. Yet it was not beauty, but hatred that emerged when she was finally ready to face the world again.

She was ruthless. Every reporter that had dared speak a word against her or Hogwarts was found and silenced. She lobbied for harsher sentences for Death Eaters, vowing that she would not rest until every single one of them was dead.

The newspaper headlines began to change. Rumours spread that she was under some kind of spell and then slowly, the world began to realise that there was no spell. Their beloved Gryffindor Princess had gone mad all by herself. They called her the Ice Queen now, and she liked that. Icicles were beautiful but deadly. They were cold and could pierce through a man with one deathly plummet. And icicles shattered. Icicles weren't expected to be strong or noble. Icicles weren't expected to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. Icicles were allowed to sob desperately when they remembered that it wasn't all a horrific nightmare, it was simply life.

She didn't care for their pity or their synpathy but she relished in the freedom. Everyone was so afraid that she would shatter if they went near that they stayed well away. She just had to turn up for meals, to smile when she was spoken to, to apologise when she retired early to bed. It was easier for them all to pretend that she was fine. After a while it started to hurt. The way that no one seemed to care, no one seemed to even notice what was wrong.

So she decided that she could act as though nothing was wrong. She refused to rely on them any longer. She didn't need their pity, didn't need their useless sympathies. If they couldn't help her, then she refused to admit that she needed help.

She went back to work, hiding away all of her grief and pain behind the mask she wore every day. She drove her friends away with her single minded determinedness to focus on her career. She stopped turning up to Sunday lunches at the Burrow and only saw Harry and Ron at various memorial services and comemorations.

She watched, a distant onlooker, as their families grew. Ron and Lavender had twins, and were already expecting another. Harry and Ginny had adopted Teddy, and then shortly afterwards Ginny had given birth to James, and then Albus. When they did meet she avoided Harry's questioning glance, ignored Ron's pointed remarks. She had no one to comfort her, and she knew that it was all her fault. She blamed the others, but deep inside of her she knew that it was all her own fault.

Sitting there, on the stairs, staring blankly at the glossy wood and even stone that had been repaired after the battle, Hermione could see the truth. She was the one who was responsible for creating the barriers between them, she was the one who was too blind to see her old friends' attempts to offer her friendship. She had ignored them for so long, and convinced herself that she shared none of the blame.

She knew that it was up to her to break down those barriers, that she should go and find Harry, and meet his children, and smile and platy nice. She also knew that she would do none of those things. Too much time had gone by. She had waited too long, and she could not now swallow her pride.

She was destined to live out the rest of her life by herself. The what ifs, the possibilities, none of it could be anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (Little Leagues): Hufflepuff (Chaser 1)

Prompts:

Adventure

"What exactly is this?"

"Chasing"

"I'm an idealist. I don't know where I'm going but I'm on my way. - Carl Sandburg"

Word Count: 1,003

* * *

"What exactly is this?"

The voice echoed through the caves and Charlie stood up abruptly, hitting his head on the rocks above. Rubbing the fast forming lump, he made his way through the dimly lit tunnel to where his assistant was crouched over a piece of rock. He had been working with the girl for a few days now; apparently it was compulsory for everyone to attempt to teach someone. She was enthusiastic but there was still a lot for her to learn.

"Are you all right?" she asked him and he shrugged.

"I'm afraid grievous bodily harm comes with the job." She raised an eyebrow, eliciting a chuckle. "It'd take more than a bump to the head to take me down."

He ran his hands over the burns and scars that marked his arms; a testament to just how true that was. Working with dragons wasn't a painless or easy job, but in his opinion there was nothing better.

Her voice broke through his thoughts and he looked up from the scorch marks he was examining. She held out the object she had been looking at with a quizzical expression on her face.

"So this is...?"

He took it from her and flipped it over in his hands. "It's a scale. It must have broken off when the dragon squeezed through the entrance."

Charlie straightened up and began to walk deeper into the caves with his trainee hurrying eagerly behind him.

"Right. So, sorry sir, but what are we actually doing here?"

He almost rolled his eyes but restrained himself. He had thus far only conversed with the locals and the rest of the team in Romanian, so perhaps it was understandable that she was confused.

"As part of my job, I track down any dragons that are causing problems, whether they are wild or escaped. If I think everything is safe then I can bring the dragon back to base, otherwise I simply assess the situation and call for back up."

She nodded. "So essentially we're just chasing a dragon?"

"A lesser cave dwelling dragon, to be specific. But yes, we are following its trail."

"Why? I mean, if it's down here isn't it safe for us to just leave us alone?"

"No. This kind of dragon rests in caves for anywhere up to a week, but then it goes out and hunts for several days. Hopefully, we can get it before it attempts to fly back to the village."

He could picture the village now. They had spoken to the locals there, standing in the ash of what had once been a thriving community. Branches had been snapped from trees and houses had been levelled. The Romanian ministry would do their best to repair the damage, but nothing could totally reverse the disaster.

"Why do you do this? I mean, they say you're one of the best dragon trainers in the world. So how come you're stuck in the middle of nowhere chasing after dragons?"

Charlie shrugged. "I started all of this - working with dragons - because I wanted an adventure, an exciting life. Taming dragons is amazing, but even that can become repetitive. I remember this quote that I read once..." He screwed up his forehead, trying to remember the precise wording. "_'__I'm __an idealist. I don't know where I'm going but I'm on my way.__'_ That's me. The life of adventure."

She laughed at his mock serious expression and he slowed his pace, turning to face her.

"Right then, you wait here." He pointed his wand at her and muttered a quick incantation. "Now, if you speak into your wand I'll hear you."

"What?" She pulled a face. "I have to stay here?"

He almost laughed; he had had the same lack of ability to comprehend the importance of safety when he started.

"Yes," he said firmly. "I shouldn't be too long. I'm not even sure that this is the right tunnel, but just wait for me in this alcove here."

He walked away briskly, eager to check and then get back outside into the sunshine. He knew that in the caves he was at a distinct disadvantage. If he was the protocol following type he would leave and assemble a team before pursuing the dragon further, but he was Charlie Weasley and he was nothing if not a rule breaker. Besides, he could handle a lesser cave dragon.

He heard her scream a second before it came through his wand. It echoed off the walls and he spun around, his heart hammering. Charlie ran back the way that he had come, stopping when he got to where he had left the girl.

She was pressed against a wall, an expression of terror on her face, as the dragon began to advance.

"That is not a _lesser_ cave dweller," he muttered to himself and pointed his wand between the two. "Protego!"

Satisfied that he had fulfilled his responsibilities in keeping the girl safe, he turned to the dragon. It was a dark grey, its long body studded with large spines. The creature was beautiful, magnificent and full of power. Charlie stepped back as it moved to face him, its shiny black claws scraping on the rock below.

"Steady." Charlie held out a hand and moved closer, keeping eye contact the whole time. Suddenly he ducked and a wall of heat rushed over his head as the dragon exhaled a fiery breath.

He jumped up quickly, aiming his wand at the unprotected spot just below the chin and shot a series of stunning spells at the dragon. Pausing only to ensure that the dragon had stumbled back, he grabbed the girl's hand.

"Now run!" Charlie ran through the labyrinth of tunnels that led back outside, sure that the dragon wouldn't follow.

He doubled over, breathing heavily, while she threw herself down onto the grass.

"Charlie? I think we found the dragon."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Written for the Quidditch Fanfiction League Competition: Little Leagues

Next Generation Character: Hugo Weasley

Prompts:

(restriction) no using the word 'Weasley'

(creature) owl

(word) backpack

* * *

Hugo sat quietly on the train in an empty compartment, his head resting against the window as he watched the familiar scenery fly by. His messy brown hair, inherited from his mother, refused to lay still and he wondered whether perhaps he should do something about it. His grandmother would be disappointed; he knew that she despaired at his untidy approach to life.

Several students ran past his compartmemt, chattering noisily. He closed his eyes and tried to remember a time when he had been that young. It had been years since he had first started at Hogwarts, since that moment when he had proudly stood on the platform, weighed down by his heavy backback and waved goodbye to his parents. His time at Hogwarts was nothing but a memory, and it was almost like walking in to a dream to be heading back to his old home.

In reality it had only been a few years since he had graduated school. He had been lost in the first few weeks, utterly unsure of what he wanted to do. Hogwarts was his home, was the place he loved more than any other in the world. Once he had realised that it had been obvious what choice Hugo should make. He had always loved learning, and now he had the opportunity to pass on that knowledge and to inspire new students as his own teachers had once inspired him.

As the train slowly pulled into the station he realised that he had fallen asleep. Rubbing his eyes, Hugo stood up and grabbed his case, making his way through the streams of children onto the platform and into a carriage reserved for professors. He looked around, smiling warmly at the others; Professor Longbottom and Professor Brown, both of whom had taught him. It would be weird calling them by first name, and Hugo had to shake himself slightly to remind himself that he belonged amongst the adults now, that he was one of them.

When he took his seat at the grand table at the end of the Great Hall Hugo could hardly believe that he was back again. He looked out over the crowd of students and felt a thrill of excitement. This was where he belonged. Professor McGonagall - _Minerva_ \- introduced him and he smiled out at the long tables as they clapped to welcome him.

Hugo was sitting at breakfast when the first letters from well wishers began to arrive. He felt the same thrill that he always had as his owl swooped overhead and dropped a pile of letters before him. Absentmindedly, Hugo let the owl nibble on a piece of toast as he flicked through the letters. Aristotle the owl had been a graduation present from Hugo's dad, a beautiful tawny owl who had never failed him.

Hugo strode through the halls of Hogwarts, an easy smile on his face. He swung open the door to his classroom and felt a shiver of excitement as he made his way to the front of the room. Reaching into his bag, Hugo pulled out the beautifully organised and detailed lesson plan thay he had written and carefully wrote his name on the board.

Taking his seat, Hugo sat back and anxiously waited for his first students to arrive. His first class was a first year class, and he consoled himself with the knowledge that they would be even more nervous than him.

It wasn't long before the first couple of students poked their heads around the door and he beamed at them, ushering them in with an excited wave of his hand.

They slowly trooped in and he tried to smile invitingly at them. He could just about remember being as unsure as they were, although he had had Lily to drag him to classes and she had never been nervous.

When Hugo judged that most of his class had arrived and found a seat he cleared his throat and began the lesson. He had just distributed the feathers that had been sitting on his desk when there was a scuffle of feet as two boys stumbled their way into the classroom.

He smiled to himself but turned a stern face on the boys as they shamefacedly sat down. Deciding that there was no point in terrifying the students on theur first day he let it go, continuing with the lesson as though he had not been interrupted.

"Today we will be looking at the incantation Wingardium Leviosa." He announced, and noticed a flicker of recognition cross some of his students' faces. The spell was one of the many things that Hugo's mother had taught him about before he had started school, and obviously some of his students had the same preparation.

Hugo drew his wand, clearly spoke the incantation and used the familiar wand motion. Slowly and gently a feather began to rise up and he looked around to find that the whole class was enthralled. He let the feather float softly back down and then began to demonstrate the wrist motion that he had used.

* * *

As his class hurried out of his room, excitedly chattering about what they had achieved, Hugo began to sort out his notes for the next class. There had been a few successes and the others would learn soon enough. Satisfied, he leant back in his chair.

"How was it?"

Hugo jolted upright with a shock and looked around for the owner of the voice. Neville Longbottom stood by his door, an easy grin on his face.

"Professor Longbottom-"

"Hugo, I think you can start calling me Neville now." He chuckled lightly. "Anyway, your first day was a success?"

Hugo grinned. "I think I'll be very happy here."


End file.
